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You Accidently Hurt Yourself | Jeongin

ᑉ³pairing; Jeongin x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Sickfic, Comfort, Fluff, angst if you squint

ᑉ³warnings; Food, Knives, mentions of blood, Reader is non-Korean, anxiety, self doubt, suggestive towards the end, Implied sex, MDNI.

ᑉ³Authors Note; Other members coming soon!

Part of the "He helps you when.." collection. Other members parts: Chan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Han | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

As you tie the apron around your waist, you feel a mix of excitement and nerves flutter in your stomach. Tonight is special; tonight, you're surprising Jeongin, your boyfriend, with a homemade Korean dinner.

With focused determination, you turn your attention to the rice cooker, rinsing the grains until the water runs clear. Soon, the familiar sound of bubbling water and the comforting scent of steaming rice fill the air. Though cooking rice may seem simple, you approach it with the same care and precision as the more intricate dishes on tonight's menu.

As the rice cooker hums softly in the background, you move on to the next item on your agenda: the geotjeori, or fresh kimchi. Your fingers tremble slightly as you handle the array of ingredients spread out before you. With practiced hands, you slice the crisp cabbage and bathe it in the fiery red paste, massaging each leaf with care. The pungent aroma of garlic and ginger fills the air, intermingling with the sharp tang of onions and the spicy kick of gochugaru, or Korean red pepper flakes. It's a symphony of flavors, one you've only ever experienced through Jeongin's stories and the occasional restaurant outing.

With the kimchi fermenting away, you turn your attention to the star of the show: the kalguksu, or knife cut noodles in a savory broth. It's his favorite dish, one that he spoke about wanting to get recently, but one you've never attempted to cook before.

In fact, you've never cooked any Korean dish before.

The recipe you found online lies on the counter, its instructions both comforting and daunting. As you roll out the dough and cut it into thin strips, a sense of nervous excitement courses through you. Each noodle takes shape under your careful hand, and you begin to see the dish slowly come to life.

You carefully measure out the ingredients. The sound of the simmering broth filling the kitchen and the aroma of the cooking ingredients should be soothing, but instead, they only heighten your anxiety. Each stir of the spoon feels like a gamble, each addition of seasoning a leap of faith.

What if you've misread the recipe? What if the flavors aren't quite right? What if he takes one bite and realizes you're completely out of your depth?

With each passing moment, the weight of your doubts grows heavier, threatening to crush the fragile hope you've pinned on this meal. The thought of disappointing Innie, of shattering his expectations, fills you with a sense of dread that knots your stomach and tightens your chest.

You feel the sting of tears welling up in your eyes, and soon you're crying.

But just as you're lost in thought, the sharp ring of the doorbell steals your attention, cutting through your thoughts. Panic hits you as you realize that Jeongin has arrived, and you're not ready to face him in this vulnerable state. You quickly wipe away the tears and try to force a smile as he comes in through the door, but the tears still cling to your lashes. You swallow hard, hoping to push down the rising tide of emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

But it's too late. His eyes widen in alarm as he takes in the sight of your tear-streaked face, his cheerful expression melting into one of concern. "What happened? Are you okay?" he asks, his voice filled with genuine worry as he moves closer to you.

You struggle to find the words to explain, your throat tight. "I'm... I'm fine," you manage to choke out, your voice trembling and contradicting your statement. "I just... I was... overwhelmed."

He takes you in his arms in response, his touch gentle. "Oh baby, I'm sorry," he murmurs softly, his voice a soothing balm against your raw nerves. "What's overwhelming you?"

His genuine concern makes your heart flutter, and for a moment, you're tempted to bury yourself in his embrace and spill out all your worries. But the words catch in your throat, the weight of your insecurities pressing down on you like a heavy burden.

"I... I just wanted everything to be perfect," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper as you struggle to articulate the words. "I wanted to impress you, to show you that I could cook your favorite dishes, but... I just ended up ruining everything."

As the weight of your words hangs heavy in the air, and a deafening silence descends upon the room, broken only by the hitch in your breath and the soft sound of your tears.

Innie's voice cuts through the silence, his tone filled with nothing but love and compassion. "You... You cooked my favorite dishes?" he asks, genuine surprise evident in his voice.

Tears blur your vision as you nod weakly, unable to meet his gaze. "I... I tried," you admit, your voice barely a whisper. "But I think I messed everything up. I'm sorry, Innie-"

"What? How did you learn to make them?" he interrupts, his eyes widening with genuine curiosity and surprise.

"I... I watched some tutorials online," you confess, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "I wanted to surprise you."

His expression changes as he listens, his eyes filled with understanding and compassion. "You went through all that trouble just for me?" he asks, his voice filled with wonder. "That's the most special thing anyone has ever done for me."

His eyes light up with excitement, his enthusiasm almost palpable as he eagerly awaits the chance to try the food you've prepared. His genuine joy fills you with a mixture of nerves and anticipation, unsure of how he'll react to your amateur attempt of his favorite dish.

As he starts to move, his excitement almost causing him to accidentally push you away, you can't help but feel a surge of shyness wash over you.

What if the food doesn't meet his expectations?

But his smile widens, his dimples deepening as he gazes at you with adoration. "I can't wait to try it," he exclaims, his eagerness infectious as he takes your hand and leads you to the table.

As you sit down together, your heart pounds in your chest, your hands trembling with nervousness as you offer him edamame first, hoping to delay the inevitable judgment of your cooking skills.

As he takes a bite of the edamame, a look of confusion briefly crosses his face before he glances past you, his gaze landing on the rest of the meal laid out in the background. You hold your breath, hoping he won't notice the discrepancy between what you promised and what's actually on the table.

But to your relief, instead of commenting on the main dishes, his attention returns to you, a playful twinkle in his eye. "Edamame, huh?" he remarks with a knowing grin. "You trying to keep me in suspense?"

You can't help but chuckle nervously at his comment, grateful for his good-natured teasing. "Something like that," you reply, trying to keep your tone light despite the butterflies in your stomach.

His smile widens, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "Well, it's working," he says, his voice filled with affection as he reaches across the table to squeeze your hand. With a grateful smile, you squeeze his hand in return, feeling a sense of relief flood through you.

Together, you continue your meal, the main dishes waiting patiently in the background as you begin dinner.

Despite the playful banter and lighthearted atmosphere, a knot of nervousness still tightens in your stomach as the time comes to unveil the main course. You find yourself hesitating, reluctant to face Jeongin's reaction to the dishes you've prepared.

He notices your hesitation, his brow furrowing with concern. "Is everything okay?" he asks, his voice gentle as he reaches out to touch your arm.

You force a smile, trying to push aside your nerves. "Yeah, yeah, everything's fine," you assure him, though your voice comes out unconvincingly even to your own ears.

With trembling hands, you begin to plate the kimchi, rice, and noodles, doing your best to ignore the critical voice in your head that tells you it's not good enough. Every movement feels clumsy and uncertain, and you can't shake the fear that Jeongin will be disappointed in what you've made.

Finally, the dishes are ready, and you take a deep breath, steeling yourself to face his reaction. But when you turn to offer him the plates, you find yourself unable to meet his gaze, your eyes fixed nervously on the table.

Jeongin takes notice of your hesitation, his expression softening. "Hey, it's okay," he says gently, his hand finding yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I'm sure it's going to be delicious."

His words offer a small measure of comfort, but you can't shake the feeling of doubt that gnaws at you from within. With a shaky breath, you finally lift your gaze to meet his, silently praying that he won't be disappointed.

He picks up his fork and takes a bite of the noodles, his expression thoughtful as he chews slowly. You hold your breath, waiting anxiously for his verdict.

A moment passes, and then another, until finally, Jeongin's face breaks into a slight smile. But as he takes another bite, you notice something unexpected glimmering in his eyes.

Tears.

His smile trembles slightly as he sets down his fork, his voice catching in his throat. "This... this is …" he manages to say, his tone thick with emotion.

You watch in astonishment as tears slowly spill down his cheeks, his hands trembling ever so slightly. It takes you a moment to process the sight before you, unsure of how to react to his unexpected display of emotion.

"Oh god is it that bad?" you ask, the worry evident in your voice. You can't help but notice the lack of enthusiasm in his expression. Panic grips you, and without waiting for him to say anything, you leap into action, your hands moving with a frantic urgency.

In a desperate choice to soothe your anxiety, an idea takes root in your mind.

A side salad, a last-minute addition to the menu.

You scan the contents of the fridge with a sense of urgency, searching for ingredients that could serve as a lifeline to salvage the meal.

You spot a head of crisp lettuce and a plump, ripe tomato nestled among the other items. The coolness of the vegetables in your hands offers a brief respite from the feverish heat of your thoughts as you hurriedly grab them. As you slice and chop with an urgency bordering on desperation, each movement of the knife is fueled by a frantic need to regain control. The rhythmic thud of the blade against the cutting board doing nothing to steady your pounding heart.

As you're lost in thought, the sound of Jeongin's voice startles you, jolting you from your reverie. Frightened, your hand falters, and a searing pain shoots through your palm as the knife grazes your skin.

A gasp escapes your lips as you drop the knife, clutching your injured hand. Blood wells up from the cut, staining your skin red.

For a moment, you're frozen in shock, the adrenaline coursing through your veins, heightening every sensation. With trembling hands, you glance down at your palm, trying to assess the damage. It doesn't look deep, but the sight of blood makes your head spin.

As he stands up, his movements swift and concerned, his eyes widen in alarm at the sound of your shriek. Before you can stop him, he rushes to your side, his expression shifting from confusion to deep concern as he takes in the sight before him.

"What happened? Are you okay?" His voice is laced with worry, each word carrying the weight of genuine concern as he reaches out to touch your trembling form.

You try to brush off his concern, to downplay the severity of the situation, but the words catch in your throat as tears blur your vision. The shame and embarrassment threaten to consume you whole as you struggle to find a way to explain, to justify your incompetence in his eyes.

Desperation floods your senses as you try to mask your pain, to hide the evidence of your failure from his prying eyes.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he murmurs softly, his voice a soothing melody.

"Let me see." He says reaching out to take your hand. Gently, he guides you to the sink, his hands steady against your trembling ones. With a tenderness that brings a lump to your throat, he helps you rinse the wound under cool water, washing away the blood and grime carefully.

You watch as he searches through the cabinets, his movements purposeful yet gentle as he retrieves the first aid kit, his brow furrowed in concentration.

As he returns to your side, first aid kit in hand, you can't help but marvel at the tenderness in his touch, the way his hands move with practiced ease as he cleans and bandages your injury.

Finally, as he secures the bandage in place, his gaze meets yours, his eyes filled with a depth of emotion. "Does it hurt a lot?" he asks, his voice filled with genuine worry. You nod weakly, unable to speak as a fresh wave of tears spill over.

Suddenly, he leans forward and presses a tender kiss to your bandaged hand, his lips a soft caress against your skin. The kiss feels like a sweet promise of comfort, soothing away the pain and worry that had threatened to consume you just moments before.

"Shhhh it's okay," he coos, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace, pulling you close against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

"I'm sorry," you say, your voice barely above a whisper as you bury your face against his chest, your words muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

He tilts your chin up gently, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat. "Sorry for what, love?" he asks softly, his thumb brushing away the tears that still linger on your cheeks.

You take a shaky breath, steeling yourself to confess the truth. "I... I tried to make you something else," you admit. "I know the food wasn't good, and I panicked..."

His expression softens, his fingers tracing comforting circles on your back. "You don't have to apologize. "

"B-But you were crying," you interrupt.

"The food... it's not about that." he said.

Confusion flickers in your eyes as you look up at him, your brow furrowing in confusion. "it wasn't bad?," you question softly.

A faint smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he shakes his head, his eyes filled with a depth of emotion that takes your breath away. "the opposite actually," he assures you. You stare at him in disbelief.

"It- it remind me of....home" he confesses softly, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "The aroma, the taste—it brought back memories of me in my grandmother's kitchen and family gatherings."

Innie's continues, his expression a beautiful blend of nostalgia and adoration. "It's like you've merged my sweet past memories with an even sweeter present," he whispers.

"With you by my side, everything feels sweeter," he continues, his voice filled with sincerity. "The food, the memories, and... our future together. Maybe we should make this a regular thing, especially when we get married." He offers a playful hint, his eyes sparkling with excitement at the thought of your future together.

As his words sink in, a sense of warmth blooms in your chest, chasing away the lingering doubts and insecurities. In his arms, you feel safe and loved, a feeling that fills you with a sense of gratitude.

A soft giggle escapes your lips at his playful suggestion, the warmth of his love wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. "I would love that," you murmur, your voice filled with genuine affection.

With a tender smile, he guides you to the table, pulling out a chair for you and taking a seat beside you. He gently takes your bandaged hand in his and presses more sweet kisses to the back of it, his lips a soft caress against your skin.

"Let's enjoy this meal together, so I can give my special compliments to the chef later," he winks.

You gasp in surprise, a blush creeping onto your cheeks, before a soft giggle escapes your lips. His playful charm never fails to make your heart flutter.

"I'm just saying..." he continues, his eyes twinkling with mischief, "the food doesn't taste half as good as you look tonight." He leans in close, his breath warm against your cheek.

"INNIE!" You playfully push him away, but he's undeterred.

With a glint in his eyes, he leans in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours. Your heart races in anticipation as you meet him halfway, your lips meeting in a sweet, tender kiss. As you pull away, a soft smile lingers on your lips, your heart overflowing with warmth and contentment.

"I'll help you eat, so you don't hurt your hand," he says, ignoring your teasing. He picks up a forkful of food and brings it to your lips, his touch gentle and caring as he ensures you're comfortable.

As you share the meal together, laughter and conversation filling the air, you can't help but feel grateful for this moment, for the love and connection you share with him. In his company, even the simplest of meals feels like a Michelin dinner.

"You know," he murmurs, his voice laced with a hint of mischief, "I think I have a few complaints for the chef." His gaze lingers on you, filled with warmth and desire.

A soft giggle escapes your lips as you play along, "Oh really? And what might those be?"

He leans in closer, his lips hovering just above yours, his breath sending shivers down your spine. "I think they're best whispered in private," he whispers, his voice low and enticing.

With a playful grin, he takes your hand and leads you toward the bedroom, his touch sending electric tingles through your skin.

....and after, you wished he had complaints every night.

*·˚ᑉ³ M.LIST | Ko-Fi | Taglist | Thank you for your support | Consider leaving a comment, reblog or like. © Valkyrieeeee 2024

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Spoiler If anyone needs a visual of the bathroom scene, hehehe.

Thank you for all the love <3

You Faint | Bang Chan

ᑉ³pairing; Bang Chan x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Sickfic, Comfort, Fluff,

ᑉ³warnings; Fainting due to Dehydration and being busy, mentions of not eating, mentions of not drinking water, kissing, Implied Female reader, Established relationship

ᑉ³Authors Note; Other members coming soon!

Part of the "He helps you when.." collection. Other members parts: Chan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Han | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

In the flurry of your responsibilities as a personal assistant to the CEO of a massive corporation, every second counts, every task critical to the smooth functioning of the business. Despite the hunger gnawing at your stomach and the parched feeling in your throat, you soldier on, driven by the need to ensure that everything operates seamlessly for your employer.

Hours blur together as you navigate the demands of the corporate world, your own needs pushed to the sidelines in the relentless pursuit of success. The weight of expectations presses down on you with each passing moment, propelling you forward even as exhaustion threatens to overwhelm you. You don't have time to notice the way your limbs grow heavy with fatigue, the world around you fading into a distant blur as you push yourself beyond your limits.

But as the day wears on, your body begins to rebel against the neglect it's been subjected to. Dizziness clouds your vision, a warning sign of the toll the day's exertions have taken. With every step, your limbs grow heavier, protesting against the punishing pace you've been maintaining.

And then, without warning, it all becomes too much. Your vision blurs, black spots dancing at the edges as dizziness overwhelms your senses. Your knees buckle beneath you, unable to support the weight of your weakened body, and before you can even comprehend what's happening, darkness claims you.

As consciousness slowly seeps back into your awareness, you find yourself nestled on the plush couch of the CEO's office, the soft hum of the air conditioner the only sound in the room. Your head throbs with the remnants of your fainting spell, a dull ache echoing through your skull.

Blinking groggily, you glance around the room, your eyes adjusting to the dim lighting. To your surprise, you find yourself surrounded by two or three other assistants, their faces etched with concern as they hover nearby, murmuring amongst themselves.

"Hey, are you okay?" one of them asks, her voice laced with worry as she kneels beside you, her hand hovering over your forehead. "You gave us quite a scare there."

You nod weakly, the events of the day slowly coming back to you in fragmented pieces. "I... I think so," you mumble, your words slurred with exhaustion.

The other assistants exchange worried glances, their concern palpable in the air. "You should rest for a bit," another assistant suggests, her tone gentle as she helps you sit up, offering you a glass of water.

Taking a sip, you feel the cool liquid soothe your parched throat, the sensation a welcome relief. As you lean back against the cushions, you're grateful for the support of your colleagues, their presence a comforting reminder that you're not alone in your struggles.

"Thanks," you murmur, offering them a weak smile. "I appreciate it."

"We were so worried about you," one of them says, her voice filled with genuine concern. "You gave us quite the scare."

You offer a weak smile, still feeling disoriented and unsure of what happened. "I'm sorry," you mumble, your words barely audible.

Another assistant nods sympathetically. "We called for help," she explains gently. "We wanted to make sure you were okay."

You furrow your brow, confusion clouding your thoughts. "Called for help." you repeat, the words sinking in slowly.

Your mind feels foggy, memories hazy and fragmented, making it difficult to grasp the severity of the situation. The concern in the assistant's eyes only adds to your growing sense of unease, prompting a knot of anxiety to tighten in your chest.

Before anyone can elaborate further, the door to the CEO's office swings open, and Chan rushes in, his expression a mix of panic and relief. "I got here as fast as I could," he says breathlessly, his eyes darting around the room until they land on you. "Are you okay? What happened?"

You swallow hard, the reality of the situation hitting you like a ton of bricks. They called Chan, your emergency contact, before they even called the paramedics. You feel a pang of guilt knowing that he's here now, worrying about you, when you hadn't wanted to burden him.

As Chan rushes to your side, his expression a mix of relief and concern, you can see the worry etched into every line of his face. His hands tremble slightly as he reaches out to grasp yours, his touch both reassuring and desperate.

"I... I don't know," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I fainted, I think."

Chan's eyes widen with alarm, his grip on your hand tightening. "You fainted?" he repeats, his voice tinged with disbelief. Chan's concern deepens, his brows furrowing with worry. "Do you know why?" he asks gently. "Did you eat today? Drink enough water?"

You shift uncomfortably under his scrutiny, the guilt of neglecting your own well-being weighing heavily on you. "I... I may have forgotten," you admit sheepishly, avoiding his gaze.

His expression softens with understanding, but a flicker of frustration dances in his eyes. "Y/N.."

"I just didn't have time," you whine, feeling the weight of his disappointment settle over you. "I have deadlines to meet, and it's been really busy here with the CEO prepping for a major partnership with another company. Plus, I'm in line for a promotion, Chan. If I do well, it's almost guaranteed. But if I fail, then I have no shot."

Chan's expression doesn’t give much away, but his resolve remains firm. "It's not that important," he insists, his tone gentle but firm. "There will always be other opportunities. Your health should come first."

You shake your head, frustration bubbling to the surface. "Not everyone can lead and be super talented like you, Chan," you argue, your voice tinged with emotion. "Some of us have to work twice as hard just to keep up."

"I know it feels that way," he says gently, as he reaches out to cup your cheek, his touch warm and comforting. "You're already doing more than enough," he assures you, his gaze unwavering. "But your health should never be sacrificed for success."

You sigh, feeling the weight of his words settling over you. "I know," you whisper, your voice heavy with resignation.

Chan's hums at your response, his hand lingering on your cheek for a moment longer before he reluctantly withdraws. "Let's go home," he says gently, " You need rest."

With a heavy heart, you rise from the couch, your legs trembling beneath you as the full extent of your exhaustion becomes apparent. Chan's eyes widen in concern as he notices your struggle, his expression softening with empathy.

"Here, let me help you," he says, moving to your side and slipping an arm around your waist for support.

You lean into him gratefully, feeling the warmth of his embrace. With Chan's steadying presence, you manage to make your way out of the CEO's office and towards the elevator, your fatigue pressing down on you with each step.

As you reach the lobby, Chan guides you towards the exit, but when you attempt to take a step forward, your legs buckle beneath you, weakened by fatigue. Chan's eyes widen in alarm, his arms wrapping around you protectively as he catches you before you fall.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice filled with concern.

You nod weakly, feeling embarrassed by your inability to stand on your own two feet. "I'm just... really tired," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Without hesitation, Chan sweeps you up into his arms, his strength a reassuring presence against your exhausted frame. "Let's get you home," he says softly, his voice filled with tenderness.

You nestle into his embrace, feeling safe and secure in his arms as he carries you out of the building and towards the waiting car.

Once you're settled into the car, Chan drives you home with careful attention, his concern never wavering as he steals glances at you from time to time. When you finally arrive at your apartment, he helps you out of the car and guides you inside, his arm wrapped protectively around you.

As you enter the cozy sanctuary of your home, Chan guides you towards the couch. However, he senses your hesitation, the way you lean heavily on him as if struggling to keep your balance.

"You need to rest," he insists softly, his voice laced with concern as he helps you settle onto the cushions. Despite his gentle urging, you remain silent, the weariness evident in every line of your body.

"I feel gross," you finally murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, admitting to the discomfort that weighs heavily on you.

Chan's brows furrow with worry, his gaze searching your face for any sign of discomfort or pain. Seeing your distress, he nods in understanding.

"Would you like to take a shower?" he suggests gently, his tone filled with empathy. He waits patiently for your response, ready to provide the support and comfort you need

You shake your head slowly, a feeling of exhaustion washing over you. "I don't think I have the energy," you confess, feeling a pang of guilt at the admission.

Chan's expression fills with empathy as he steps closer, his hand reaching out to gently squeeze yours. "That's okay," he reassures you, his voice soft and comforting. "Why don't we start with something smaller? Like washing your hair?"

You blink back tears, starting to feel overwhelmed. "I just... I feel so drained," you admit, your voice trembling with emotion.

Chan nods sympathetically, his gaze filled with compassion. "I understand," he says softly, his words a soothing balm to your weary soul. "Let's take it one step at a time, okay?

As Chan helps you make your way to the bathroom, you feel the weight of exhaustion pulling at your limbs. With his steady support, you settle on the edge of the bathtub, feeling drained and weak. Chan kneels beside you, his gentle hands reaching for the shower head. His concerned gaze meeting yours.

"Lean back," he murmurs, his voice a soothing melody in the quiet bathroom. You obey, allowing your head to rest against the edge of the tub as Chan pours the water over your hair, the liquid cascading down in a comforting stream.

The sensation of the warm water against your scalp is both soothing and revitalizing, washing away the weariness that has settled deep within your bones. Chan's touch is tender, his fingers massaging your scalp with care as he works shampoo into your hair, creating a rich lather that fills the air with a subtle scent of eucalyptus.

As Chan tenderly tends to your needs, a wave of helplessness crashes over you, leaving you feeling small and useless. The inability to perform even the simplest tasks on your own gnaws at you, a constant reminder of your vulnerability. You watch as Chan effortlessly takes care of everything, his competence highlighting your own shortcomings.

A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you struggle to suppress the rising tide of frustration and self-doubt. "I hate feeling like this," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper, tinged with the bitterness of inadequacy.

"Like what?" Chan's voice is gentle, his concern evident as he seeks to understand you.

"Helpless," you confess, the word heavy with emotion.

Chan notices the heaviness in your sigh and the sorrow in your eyes, and his heart aches with empathy. Leaning closer, he places a soft kiss on your lips.

"You're not helpless, love," he murmurs, his voice soft and filled with affection. "You're just taking a break. Everyone needs a little help sometimes, even superheroes like you."

His words are like a warm embrace, wrapping around you with love and understanding.

"You're my baby," he whispers, "And I'll always be here to take care of you, no matter what."

As Chan rinses the shampoo from your hair, the water running clear and pure, you feel a sense of renewal wash over you. With each gentle stroke of his hands, you can feel your energy slowly returning, a flicker of hope igniting within your chest.

When the task is finally complete, Chan reaches for a fluffy towel, wrapping it around your shoulders with care. He helps you to stand, guiding you away from the bathtub.

"Let's dry your hair a bit so you don't go to bed with it wet," he suggests, his lips forming a shy smile. He grabs a hairdryer, carefully adjusting the settings before starting to blow dry your hair, the warm air a comforting embrace against your skin.

As he works, you feel a sense of peace settle over you, the sound of the hairdryer a soothing backdrop to the quiet intimacy of the moment.

Chan concentrates intently, his brow furrowing as he focuses on the task at hand. His brow furrows in concentration, his lips pursed in determination as he attempts to weave the strands of your hair into a braid. With each failed attempt, a mixture of frustration and amusement flickers across his features, his cheeks flushing slightly with embarrassment.

You can't help but find his earnest efforts endearing, and a soft chuckle escapes your lips as you watch him work. The sound fills the small bathroom, mingling with the gentle patter of water droplets.

"Where did you learn to braid?" you ask, genuine curiosity in your tone.

Chan looks up at you, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "I've been teaching myself," he admits, his fingers still fumbling with the strands of your hair. "I thought... one day, when we have kids together, I want to be able to braid their hair. I want to be the kind of dad who can do that."

His vulnerability touches your heart, and you reach out to gently squeeze his hand, a tender smile playing on your lips. "You'll be an amazing dad," you assure him, your voice filled with love and admiration. "And you're already an amazing partner."

"I want to be better,"he says softly, his voice tinged with sincerity. "For you."

He leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. His lips are soft against yours. As he pulls away, his eyes shimmering with adoration, he presses another tender kiss to your forehead before returning to his task.

"You did great," Chan whispers, his voice filled with pride and admiration, as he guides you to your bedroom. The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts a warm, comforting light across the room as he fusses over you, fluffing pillows and tucking blankets around you until you're cocooned in warmth.

With gentle hands, he arranges the pillows behind you, ensuring you're propped up just right for maximum comfort. He tucks the blankets snugly around your shoulders, his touch tender and reassuring as he ensures every corner is tucked in securely.

After making sure you're settled, Chan disappears into the kitchen, the faint clinking of dishes drifting through the air as he prepares your meal. Moments later, he returns with a tray laden with food – a simple yet nourishing meal, prepared with love.

The aroma of home-cooked food fills the room, mingling with the soft scent of freshly laundered sheets. Chan sets the tray down on your bedside table, arranging the dishes with care before settling in beside you.

As you eat, Chan sits close by, his warmth radiating beside you. He regales you with stories and jokes, his laughter filling the room with a sense of joy and ease. Each tale is punctuated by his infectious laughter, and despite your weariness, you can't help but smile at his antics.

As you finish your meal, feeling the warmth of the food spreading through your body, Chan rises from his seat beside you, his movements fluid and graceful as he clears away the dishes. The clinking of plates and silverware fills the air as he tidies up, his attention to detail evident in every gesture.

Once the dishes are cleared, Chan returns to your side, settling in beside you on the bed. He pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you in a gentle embrace. The familiar scent of his cologne envelops you, soothing away the remnants of tension that linger in your muscles.

With a contented sigh, you snuggle closer to him, reveling in the warmth and security of his embrace. Chan presses a tender kiss to your forehead, his touch a silent reassurance that everything will be okay.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he murmurs, his voice low and raw. As he speaks, he guides your hand to his chest, letting you feel the rapid thud of his heart beneath his shirt.

"Every time you're in pain or in danger," he continues, his voice barely above a whisper, "it's like my whole world stops."

You feel a lump form in your throat, a rush of emotion threatening to overwhelm you. "I'm sorry," you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion. "It wasn't on purpose."

Chan shakes his head, his grip tightening around you as if afraid to let go. "I know," he says softly. "But I need you to promise me something."

"What?" you ask.

"Promise me that you'll always try your best to care of yourself," he says, his tone earnest. "Promise me that you won't push yourself too hard, that you'll listen to your body and prioritize your health."

You meet his gaze, seeing the depth of his concern reflected in his eyes. With a nod, you offer him a small smile, filled with gratitude and determination.

"I promise," you vow, your voice steady with conviction.

Chan's eyes soften, a tender smile playing on his lips. "And I promise in return," he says softly, "to always be there when you need me, or a little extra help."

He settles back against the pillows, pulling you with him until you're both comfortable. As you nestle into each other, Chan reaches for the remote control, flicking through the channels until he finds a movie that catches your interest.

The soft glow of the TV bathes the room in a warm, flickering light as the movie begins to play. You rest your head against Chan's chest, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat getting faster beneath your ear. It's a comforting sound, a reminder of the love and stability that he brings into your life.

As the movie unfolds, you lose yourself in the story, the worries and stresses of the day fading into the background. With Chan by your side, you feel safe and at peace, cocooned in a bubble of love and warmth.

*·˚ᑉ³ M.LIST | Ko-Fi | Taglist | Thank you for your support | Consider leaving a comment, reblog or like. © Valkyrieeeee 2024

[valkyrieeeee]

Hi💖 I was wondering if you had any Jeongin things in the works ?

I love your work but I don’t think you have anything up for him yet.

Heyyy 🖤

I do have a few Jeongin fics in the works!

His 'He helps you when' collection one-shot is coming next.

I also have gotten a few other requests for Jeongin, and I promise those are going to go up soon as well.

I'm trying to write more for the Maknae line in general, so if you have any requests for them ✨i'd love to feed the delusion ✨

Is there anything specific you want to request?

[valkyrieeeee]

Just to let you know your new fic about chan helping when you faint has a lot of repeat sentences. Like, it repeats a lot of the things written immediately after one another. No hate at all, I just wanted to make sure you are aware! Love your account!! 💖

Yes, I did notice this! It has to do with me copying and pasting from my Word doc. I copy it in parts, just so I can double-check punctuation and wording a little before it goes in. Sometimes when I don't like it, though, I'll rewrite and rewrite until I get a version I like, and then paste it in. But I'm learning Tumblr doesn't like pasting, so when I paste, it doesn't delete the part I highlighted, just adds it right after.

I also didn't mean to post it when I did (never using the mobile version again, lesson learned).

Thank you, thank you for letting me know! Please don't be shy to reach out if you see other mistakes, like this🖤

[valkyrieeeee]

You Faint | Bang Chan

ᑉ³pairing; Bang Chan x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Sickfic, Comfort, Fluff,

ᑉ³warnings; Fainting due to Dehydration and being busy, mentions of not eating, mentions of not drinking water, kissing, Implied Female reader, Established relationship

ᑉ³Authors Note; Other members coming soon!

Part of the "He helps you when.." collection. Other members parts: Chan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Han | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

In the flurry of your responsibilities as a personal assistant to the CEO of a massive corporation, every second counts, every task critical to the smooth functioning of the business. Despite the hunger gnawing at your stomach and the parched feeling in your throat, you soldier on, driven by the need to ensure that everything operates seamlessly for your employer.

Hours blur together as you navigate the demands of the corporate world, your own needs pushed to the sidelines in the relentless pursuit of success. The weight of expectations presses down on you with each passing moment, propelling you forward even as exhaustion threatens to overwhelm you. You don't have time to notice the way your limbs grow heavy with fatigue, the world around you fading into a distant blur as you push yourself beyond your limits.

But as the day wears on, your body begins to rebel against the neglect it's been subjected to. Dizziness clouds your vision, a warning sign of the toll the day's exertions have taken. With every step, your limbs grow heavier, protesting against the punishing pace you've been maintaining.

And then, without warning, it all becomes too much. Your vision blurs, black spots dancing at the edges as dizziness overwhelms your senses. Your knees buckle beneath you, unable to support the weight of your weakened body, and before you can even comprehend what's happening, darkness claims you.

As consciousness slowly seeps back into your awareness, you find yourself nestled on the plush couch of the CEO's office, the soft hum of the air conditioner the only sound in the room. Your head throbs with the remnants of your fainting spell, a dull ache echoing through your skull.

Blinking groggily, you glance around the room, your eyes adjusting to the dim lighting. To your surprise, you find yourself surrounded by two or three other assistants, their faces etched with concern as they hover nearby, murmuring amongst themselves.

"Hey, are you okay?" one of them asks, her voice laced with worry as she kneels beside you, her hand hovering over your forehead. "You gave us quite a scare there."

You nod weakly, the events of the day slowly coming back to you in fragmented pieces. "I... I think so," you mumble, your words slurred with exhaustion.

The other assistants exchange worried glances, their concern palpable in the air. "You should rest for a bit," another assistant suggests, her tone gentle as she helps you sit up, offering you a glass of water.

Taking a sip, you feel the cool liquid soothe your parched throat, the sensation a welcome relief. As you lean back against the cushions, you're grateful for the support of your colleagues, their presence a comforting reminder that you're not alone in your struggles.

"Thanks," you murmur, offering them a weak smile. "I appreciate it."

"We were so worried about you," one of them says, her voice filled with genuine concern. "You gave us quite the scare."

You offer a weak smile, still feeling disoriented and unsure of what happened. "I'm sorry," you mumble, your words barely audible.

Another assistant nods sympathetically. "We called for help," she explains gently. "We wanted to make sure you were okay."

You furrow your brow, confusion clouding your thoughts. "Called for help." you repeat, the words sinking in slowly.

Your mind feels foggy, memories hazy and fragmented, making it difficult to grasp the severity of the situation. The concern in the assistant's eyes only adds to your growing sense of unease, prompting a knot of anxiety to tighten in your chest.

Before anyone can elaborate further, the door to the CEO's office swings open, and Chan rushes in, his expression a mix of panic and relief. "I got here as fast as I could," he says breathlessly, his eyes darting around the room until they land on you. "Are you okay? What happened?"

You swallow hard, the reality of the situation hitting you like a ton of bricks. They called Chan, your emergency contact, before they even called the paramedics. You feel a pang of guilt knowing that he's here now, worrying about you, when you hadn't wanted to burden him.

As Chan rushes to your side, his expression a mix of relief and concern, you can see the worry etched into every line of his face. His hands tremble slightly as he reaches out to grasp yours, his touch both reassuring and desperate.

"I... I don't know," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I fainted, I think."

Chan's eyes widen with alarm, his grip on your hand tightening. "You fainted?" he repeats, his voice tinged with disbelief. Chan's concern deepens, his brows furrowing with worry. "Do you know why?" he asks gently. "Did you eat today? Drink enough water?"

You shift uncomfortably under his scrutiny, the guilt of neglecting your own well-being weighing heavily on you. "I... I may have forgotten," you admit sheepishly, avoiding his gaze.

His expression softens with understanding, but a flicker of frustration dances in his eyes. "Y/N.."

"I just didn't have time," you whine, feeling the weight of his disappointment settle over you. "I have deadlines to meet, and it's been really busy here with the CEO prepping for a major partnership with another company. Plus, I'm in line for a promotion, Chan. If I do well, it's almost guaranteed. But if I fail, then I have no shot."

Chan's expression doesn’t give much away, but his resolve remains firm. "It's not that important," he insists, his tone gentle but firm. "There will always be other opportunities. Your health should come first."

You shake your head, frustration bubbling to the surface. "Not everyone can lead and be super talented like you, Chan," you argue, your voice tinged with emotion. "Some of us have to work twice as hard just to keep up."

"I know it feels that way," he says gently, as he reaches out to cup your cheek, his touch warm and comforting. "You're already doing more than enough," he assures you, his gaze unwavering. "But your health should never be sacrificed for success."

You sigh, feeling the weight of his words settling over you. "I know," you whisper, your voice heavy with resignation.

Chan's hums at your response, his hand lingering on your cheek for a moment longer before he reluctantly withdraws. "Let's go home," he says gently, " You need rest."

With a heavy heart, you rise from the couch, your legs trembling beneath you as the full extent of your exhaustion becomes apparent. Chan's eyes widen in concern as he notices your struggle, his expression softening with empathy.

"Here, let me help you," he says, moving to your side and slipping an arm around your waist for support.

You lean into him gratefully, feeling the warmth of his embrace. With Chan's steadying presence, you manage to make your way out of the CEO's office and towards the elevator, your fatigue pressing down on you with each step.

As you reach the lobby, Chan guides you towards the exit, but when you attempt to take a step forward, your legs buckle beneath you, weakened by fatigue. Chan's eyes widen in alarm, his arms wrapping around you protectively as he catches you before you fall.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice filled with concern.

You nod weakly, feeling embarrassed by your inability to stand on your own two feet. "I'm just... really tired," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Without hesitation, Chan sweeps you up into his arms, his strength a reassuring presence against your exhausted frame. "Let's get you home," he says softly, his voice filled with tenderness.

You nestle into his embrace, feeling safe and secure in his arms as he carries you out of the building and towards the waiting car.

Once you're settled into the car, Chan drives you home with careful attention, his concern never wavering as he steals glances at you from time to time. When you finally arrive at your apartment, he helps you out of the car and guides you inside, his arm wrapped protectively around you.

As you enter the cozy sanctuary of your home, Chan guides you towards the couch. However, he senses your hesitation, the way you lean heavily on him as if struggling to keep your balance.

"You need to rest," he insists softly, his voice laced with concern as he helps you settle onto the cushions. Despite his gentle urging, you remain silent, the weariness evident in every line of your body.

"I feel gross," you finally murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, admitting to the discomfort that weighs heavily on you.

Chan's brows furrow with worry, his gaze searching your face for any sign of discomfort or pain. Seeing your distress, he nods in understanding.

"Would you like to take a shower?" he suggests gently, his tone filled with empathy. He waits patiently for your response, ready to provide the support and comfort you need

You shake your head slowly, a feeling of exhaustion washing over you. "I don't think I have the energy," you confess, feeling a pang of guilt at the admission.

Chan's expression fills with empathy as he steps closer, his hand reaching out to gently squeeze yours. "That's okay," he reassures you, his voice soft and comforting. "Why don't we start with something smaller? Like washing your hair?"

You blink back tears, starting to feel overwhelmed. "I just... I feel so drained," you admit, your voice trembling with emotion.

Chan nods sympathetically, his gaze filled with compassion. "I understand," he says softly, his words a soothing balm to your weary soul. "Let's take it one step at a time, okay?

As Chan helps you make your way to the bathroom, you feel the weight of exhaustion pulling at your limbs. With his steady support, you settle on the edge of the bathtub, feeling drained and weak. Chan kneels beside you, his gentle hands reaching for the shower head. His concerned gaze meeting yours.

"Lean back," he murmurs, his voice a soothing melody in the quiet bathroom. You obey, allowing your head to rest against the edge of the tub as Chan pours the water over your hair, the liquid cascading down in a comforting stream.

The sensation of the warm water against your scalp is both soothing and revitalizing, washing away the weariness that has settled deep within your bones. Chan's touch is tender, his fingers massaging your scalp with care as he works shampoo into your hair, creating a rich lather that fills the air with a subtle scent of eucalyptus.

As Chan tenderly tends to your needs, a wave of helplessness crashes over you, leaving you feeling small and useless. The inability to perform even the simplest tasks on your own gnaws at you, a constant reminder of your vulnerability. You watch as Chan effortlessly takes care of everything, his competence highlighting your own shortcomings.

A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you struggle to suppress the rising tide of frustration and self-doubt. "I hate feeling like this," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper, tinged with the bitterness of inadequacy.

"Like what?" Chan's voice is gentle, his concern evident as he seeks to understand you.

"Helpless," you confess, the word heavy with emotion.

Chan notices the heaviness in your sigh and the sorrow in your eyes, and his heart aches with empathy. Leaning closer, he places a soft kiss on your lips.

"You're not helpless, love," he murmurs, his voice soft and filled with affection. "You're just taking a break. Everyone needs a little help sometimes, even superheroes like you."

His words are like a warm embrace, wrapping around you with love and understanding.

"You're my baby," he whispers, "And I'll always be here to take care of you, no matter what."

As Chan rinses the shampoo from your hair, the water running clear and pure, you feel a sense of renewal wash over you. With each gentle stroke of his hands, you can feel your energy slowly returning, a flicker of hope igniting within your chest.

When the task is finally complete, Chan reaches for a fluffy towel, wrapping it around your shoulders with care. He helps you to stand, guiding you away from the bathtub.

"Let's dry your hair a bit so you don't go to bed with it wet," he suggests, his lips forming a shy smile. He grabs a hairdryer, carefully adjusting the settings before starting to blow dry your hair, the warm air a comforting embrace against your skin.

As he works, you feel a sense of peace settle over you, the sound of the hairdryer a soothing backdrop to the quiet intimacy of the moment.

Chan concentrates intently, his brow furrowing as he focuses on the task at hand. His brow furrows in concentration, his lips pursed in determination as he attempts to weave the strands of your hair into a braid. With each failed attempt, a mixture of frustration and amusement flickers across his features, his cheeks flushing slightly with embarrassment.

You can't help but find his earnest efforts endearing, and a soft chuckle escapes your lips as you watch him work. The sound fills the small bathroom, mingling with the gentle patter of water droplets.

"Where did you learn to braid?" you ask, genuine curiosity in your tone.

Chan looks up at you, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "I've been teaching myself," he admits, his fingers still fumbling with the strands of your hair. "I thought... one day, when we have kids together, I want to be able to braid their hair. I want to be the kind of dad who can do that."

His vulnerability touches your heart, and you reach out to gently squeeze his hand, a tender smile playing on your lips. "You'll be an amazing dad," you assure him, your voice filled with love and admiration. "And you're already an amazing partner."

"I want to be better,"he says softly, his voice tinged with sincerity. "For you."

He leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. His lips are soft against yours. As he pulls away, his eyes shimmering with adoration, he presses another tender kiss to your forehead before returning to his task.

"You did great," Chan whispers, his voice filled with pride and admiration, as he guides you to your bedroom. The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts a warm, comforting light across the room as he fusses over you, fluffing pillows and tucking blankets around you until you're cocooned in warmth.

With gentle hands, he arranges the pillows behind you, ensuring you're propped up just right for maximum comfort. He tucks the blankets snugly around your shoulders, his touch tender and reassuring as he ensures every corner is tucked in securely.

After making sure you're settled, Chan disappears into the kitchen, the faint clinking of dishes drifting through the air as he prepares your meal. Moments later, he returns with a tray laden with food – a simple yet nourishing meal, prepared with love.

The aroma of home-cooked food fills the room, mingling with the soft scent of freshly laundered sheets. Chan sets the tray down on your bedside table, arranging the dishes with care before settling in beside you.

As you eat, Chan sits close by, his warmth radiating beside you. He regales you with stories and jokes, his laughter filling the room with a sense of joy and ease. Each tale is punctuated by his infectious laughter, and despite your weariness, you can't help but smile at his antics.

As you finish your meal, feeling the warmth of the food spreading through your body, Chan rises from his seat beside you, his movements fluid and graceful as he clears away the dishes. The clinking of plates and silverware fills the air as he tidies up, his attention to detail evident in every gesture.

Once the dishes are cleared, Chan returns to your side, settling in beside you on the bed. He pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you in a gentle embrace. The familiar scent of his cologne envelops you, soothing away the remnants of tension that linger in your muscles.

With a contented sigh, you snuggle closer to him, reveling in the warmth and security of his embrace. Chan presses a tender kiss to your forehead, his touch a silent reassurance that everything will be okay.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he murmurs, his voice low and raw. As he speaks, he guides your hand to his chest, letting you feel the rapid thud of his heart beneath his shirt.

"Every time you're in pain or in danger," he continues, his voice barely above a whisper, "it's like my whole world stops."

You feel a lump form in your throat, a rush of emotion threatening to overwhelm you. "I'm sorry," you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion. "It wasn't on purpose."

Chan shakes his head, his grip tightening around you as if afraid to let go. "I know," he says softly. "But I need you to promise me something."

"What?" you ask.

"Promise me that you'll always try your best to care of yourself," he says, his tone earnest. "Promise me that you won't push yourself too hard, that you'll listen to your body and prioritize your health."

You meet his gaze, seeing the depth of his concern reflected in his eyes. With a nod, you offer him a small smile, filled with gratitude and determination.

"I promise," you vow, your voice steady with conviction.

Chan's eyes soften, a tender smile playing on his lips. "And I promise in return," he says softly, "to always be there when you need me, or a little extra help."

He settles back against the pillows, pulling you with him until you're both comfortable. As you nestle into each other, Chan reaches for the remote control, flicking through the channels until he finds a movie that catches your interest.

The soft glow of the TV bathes the room in a warm, flickering light as the movie begins to play. You rest your head against Chan's chest, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat getting faster beneath your ear. It's a comforting sound, a reminder of the love and stability that he brings into your life.

As the movie unfolds, you lose yourself in the story, the worries and stresses of the day fading into the background. With Chan by your side, you feel safe and at peace, cocooned in a bubble of love and warmth.

*·˚ᑉ³ M.LIST | Ko-Fi | Taglist | Thank you for your support | Consider leaving a comment, reblog or like. © Valkyrieeeee 2024

[valkyrieeeee]

You have the Flu | Felix

ᑉ³pairing; Felix x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Sickfic, Comfort, Fluff,

ᑉ³warnings; use of pet names

ᑉ³Authors Note; Other members coming soon!

Part of the "He helps you when.." collection. Other members parts: Chan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Han | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

As you leave the office, the weight of the day begins to lift. You're looking forward to heading home, maybe even curling up with a good book or binge-watching your favorite show. It's been a long week – Thursday afternoon, the anticipation of the impending weekend is palpable, yet one more day of work still looms ahead.

The rain catches you off guard, a sudden onslaught that seems to mirror the weight of the week you've just endured. Dark clouds hang low in the sky, casting a somber shadow over the bustling streets below. The sound of raindrops hitting pavement fills the air, drowning out the usual cacophony of city life.

You hadn't expected rain today – hadn't bothered to check the weather forecast, too consumed by the demands of work to think about anything else. Now, you find yourself standing on the sidewalk, unprepared and unprotected against the elements.

The air is thick with the scent of wet asphalt and the sound of rain hitting the pavement is a constant, soothing rhythm.

With a heavy heart, you reach into your pocket for your phone, hoping to call for a taxi and escape the downpour. But as you bring it out, you notice the battery icon blinking ominously – a glaring red warning that it's about to die.

You curse under your breath, frustration mounting as you realize the extent of your predicament. Without a working phone, you're stranded in the rain, with no means of summoning help or seeking shelter.

Reluctantly, you tuck the phone back into your pocket, resigned to your fate. The cold seeps into your bones as you huddle beneath the feeble shelter of an overhang, watching the world pass by through a curtain of raindrops.

Minutes stretch into what feels like hours as you wait, the anticipation of a taxi's arrival your only source of hope amidst the relentless downpour. With each passing moment, your patience wears thin, your spirits dampened by the relentless assault of rain.

Finally, a taxi pulls up to the curb, and you practically leap inside, grateful for the warmth and shelter it provides.

As you settle into the backseat, you let out a long exhale, feeling a chill creep into your bones. The sound of rain against the windows is muffled now, replaced by the hum of the engine and the soft patter of droplets on the roof.

You give the driver your address and sink back into the seat, closing your eyes for a moment of peace amidst the chaos of the storm. The gentle rocking of the taxi lulls you into a state of calm, the tension in your shoulders slowly melting away.

Outside, the rain continues to fall, a steady rhythm that serves as a backdrop to your journey home. But inside the taxi, you're safe and dry, cocooned in a bubble of warmth and comfort. And you watch as the city lights pass by in a blur of color.

But as the night wears on, you start to feel worse. Your head throbs, your throat feels scratchy, and your body aches all over.

As you stumble through the door of your apartment, you can't shake the feeling of exhaustion that weighs heavily upon you. But you're grateful for the familiar surroundings of home.

Dragging yourself to the bathroom, you strip off your wet clothes and step into the warm embrace of the shower. The hot water soothes your aching muscles, but it does little to ease the pounding in your head or the scratchiness in your throat.

After what feels like an eternity, you emerge from the shower and clumsily towel off. You're too tired to bother with your nighttime routine, so you simply crawl into bed, shivering despite the layers of blankets.

After what feels like an eternity, you emerge from the shower and clumsily towel off. You're too tired to bother with your nighttime routine, so you simply crawl into bed, shivering despite the layers of blankets.

You glance at the clock on the nightstand, its glowing digits informing you that it's now 9:26 PM. Your phone, now charging, sits on the nightstand, but you can't summon the energy to check it. Instead, you drift off into a fitful sleep, the fever burning through your body like wildfire.

--

As you slowly awaken from your fever-induced slumber, you're greeted by the persistent pounding on your door. Every muscle in your body feels heavy, and the thought of moving seems impossible. You try to call out, You try to call out, but your voice comes out as nothing more than a raspy croak, barely audible even to your own ears.

The persistent pounding on your door feels like a distant echo, a sound from another world intruding upon your fragile consciousness. With each thud, your heart beats a little faster, a sense of unease creeping into the edges of your mind.

The pounding grows louder and more urgent, reverberating through the room like a drumbeat. Then, above the din, you hear the unmistakable sound of keys jingling in the lock, sending a jolt of adrenaline coursing through your veins. Your heart skips a beat as anticipation and anxiety intertwine within you.

Suddenly, the door bursts open, and Felix rushes into the room, his face a whirlwind of emotions – concern, relief, and something else that you can't quite place. His eyes lock onto yours, searching for reassurance amidst the chaos of your fevered state.

"Felix," you manage to croak out, your voice barely above a whisper. Relief floods through you at the sight of him.

"You didn't answer any of my messages or calls," Felix says, his voice tinged with worry as he rushes to your side. "I got really scared when I went to check up on you at work and you weren't there, so I came straight here. Are you okay?"

"Felix," you whisper. "What time is it?"

"It's 3 PM," he replies. "I've been so worried about you. Are you okay? How are you feeling?"

You manage a weak nod, reaching out to grasp his hand. "I... I think I caught the flu. I feel awful."

Felix's expression softens with concern as he feels your forehead. "You're burning up. Let's get you some water and medicine, okay? We'll make you feel better."

You nod gratefully, letting Felix guide you to sit up as he hurries to fetch a glass of water and some fever-reducing medication. As he fusses over you, you can't help but feel overwhelmed by his care and concern.

Felix's brow furrows with concern as he settles beside you, his worry evident in his voice. "How long have you been feeling this way?"

You sigh. "Since last night. I... I think it's because of the rain," you admit reluctantly. "I got caught in it on my way home from work yesterday, and I didn't have an umbrella or anything. By the time I got home, I was already feeling sick."

Felix's expression darkens with concern and a hint of frustration. "You were out in the rain without proper protection, and you didn't say anything?" he asks, his voice tinged with worry and reproach.

"I didn't think it was a big deal," you mumble, feeling ashamed for not taking better care of yourself. "I thought I'd be fine, but... I guess I was wrong."

Felix's features soften as he reaches out to cup your cheek, his touch gentle. "You should have told me, sweetheart," he says softly. "I would have come to get you, or at least made sure you got home safely. I hate seeing you like this."

You nod, feeling tears prickle at the corners of your eyes. "I'm sorry, Felix," you whisper, feeling overwhelmed. "I should have said something. I won't do it again, I promise."

Felix pulls you into his arms, holding you close as he presses a kiss to your forehead. "It's okay," he murmurs, his voice warm and comforting. "Just focus on getting better now, alright? I'll take care of you."

With a tender smile, he rises from the bed and heads to the kitchen, returning moments later with a steaming mug of his favorite tea. Its aroma fills the room, carrying with it a sense of warmth and comfort.

"Here," he says softly, offering you the mug. "This always makes me feel better when I'm under the weather. Maybe it'll help you too."

You take the mug gratefully, the warmth of the tea seeping into your hands.

As you slowly try to drink the tea, your hands trembling slightly from weakness, Felix notices the sadness etched on your face. then, he suddenly disappears into the other room.

A couple minutes later he returns with BbokAri cradled gently in his arms, a soft smile gracing his lips as he approaches you.

"Here," he says gently, placing the plush toy in your hands. "This little guy never leaves my side, but tonight, I want him to keep you company. I thought he might help cheer you up too."

Taking the plush toy into your hands, you can't help but marvel at its softness and the love that emanates from it. As you hold it close, feeling its comforting presence, you notice Felix's gaze lingering on you, filled with concern and tenderness.

Seeing your body tremble with chills, Felix's heart wrenches with concern. "You're so cold," he murmurs. "Let's get you warmed up."

He quickly rises from the bed, leaving you momentarily bereft of his comforting embrace. However, he returns moments later with an extra blanket, which he wraps snugly around you. Then, he retrieves a heating pad, placing it gently near you.

As you shiver from a combination of fever and cold, Felix notices your discomfort. Returning to your side, he slips under the covers beside you, wrapping his arms around you in a gentle embrace. He holds you tightly, his own body heat radiating against yours, as he murmurs soothing words of comfort.

You snuggle closer to him. Felix holds you close, his steady heartbeat a reassuring rhythm against your ear. You hold BbokAri close to your chest, feeling its softness against your skin. Felix wraps his arms around both you and BbokAri, and you feel a sense of safety and security wash over you, banishing the cold and the fear that had gripped you moments before.

Felix presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering as if to convey all the love he holds for you. "I'll do whatever it takes to see you smile again," he murmurs, his voice a gentle caress against your skin. "You mean everything to me, and I can't stand to see you like this."

"Do you want more medicine, or is there something else I can do to ease your discomfort?" he asks gently, his voice filled with a desire to help.

"Having you here, holding me like this," you say softly, "is all the medicine I need."

Felix's smile is tender and full of affection. "I'm glad I can provide some comfort," he replies, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "But if there's anything else I can do, just let me know. I'll bring you more tea, medicine, anything you need. Or we can go on a walk? Get some sunshine and fresh air."

"You already bring the sunshine with you, right here in this room," you say, your voice soft with love.

Felix's eyes shimmer with warmth at your words, a soft glow of affection enveloping him. Pressed against each other for warmth, you drift off into a peaceful sleep, the sound of Felix's steady breathing lulling you into a sense of calm.

*·˚ᑉ³ M.LIST | Ko-Fi | Taglist | Thank you for your support | Consider leaving a comment, reblog or like. © Valkyrieeeee 2024

[valkyrieeeee]

Dating Han is like waking up in the morning , rolling over, and seeing this look back at you because he’s already awake just waiting for you to wake up.

[valkyrieeeee]

You have surgery | Han Jisung

ᑉ³pairing; Boyfriend! Han Jisung x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Sickfic, Comfort, Fluff,

ᑉ³warnings; Wisdom tooth removal, dentist, Anesthesia, amnesia

ᑉ³Authors Note; Other members coming soon! Based on a true story (me!) Edited!

Part of the "He helps you when.." collection. Other members parts: Chan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin| Han | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

As the nurse administers the anesthesia, you squeeze the hand you're holding tightly, drawing strength from their steady grip. You feel a cool sensation spreading through your veins as the anesthesia takes effect, gradually enveloping you in a blanket of warmth and tranquility.

A wave of anxiety washes over you, but it feels distant, muffled by the encroaching haze of unconsciousness. Your palms grow clammy, and your breath comes in short, shallow gasps. He reaches out, His touch is barely perceptible, a faint brush against your cheek. His whispered words of encouragement are like echoes from a far-off place, reaching you through layers of fog.

"Hey, you've got this," he murmurs softly, his voice fading into the recesses of your mind. "I know you're scared, but you're the bravest person I know. I'll be right here when you wake up, holding your hand okay?" His words cling to your consciousness like a passing dream.

With one final breath, you faintly hear the words "I love you" as you close your eyes, letting go of your fears and surrendering to the gentle embrace of unconsciousness.

-

As consciousness slowly returns, you find yourself floating in a hazy fog, your senses dulled by the lingering effects of anesthesia. Your eyelids flutter open, revealing a dimly lit room swirling with shadows and blurred shapes.

Confusion washes over you as you struggle to make sense of your surroundings. The faces that hover at the edge of your vision are unfamiliar, their features distorted and indistinct.

Panic begins to rise within you, a knot of fear tightening in your chest as you search desperately for something familiar. Your heart races in your chest, each beat echoing in your ears as panic tightens its grip around your throat.

You try to push through the fog, to grasp onto fleeting fragments of memory that slip through your fingers like grains of sand. But the harder you try, the more elusive they become, slipping further and further beyond your reach.

Desperation claws at the edges of your consciousness, urging you to flee, to escape this nightmare world of shadows and uncertainty. But where can you run when you don't even know where you are?

And then, amidst the chaos of your mind, a voice breaks through the fog, a soft whisper that cuts through the darkness like a beacon of light.

"Hey there, sleepyhead," his voice trembles slightly, gentle yet filled with love. "It's me, Jisung. How are you feeling" he asks softly, his tone laced with a mixture of hope and fear.

"Who are you?" you manage to croak, your voice trembling with confusion and fear. The name 'Jisung' means nothing to you in this moment of disorientation.

A flicker of sadness passes through his eyes, but he quickly masks it with a reassuring smile, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm Jisung," he repeats gently, his voice tender yet tinged with a hint of disappointment. "Your boyfriend. Do you remember? We've been together for a few years now."

You blink, trying to process his words, but the fog in your mind refuses to dissipate. "I'm sorry," you whisper, your heart heavy with guilt. "I don't remember."

Jisung's expression softens, sadness passing through his eyes once again , but he remains silent, his concern evident in the gentle squeeze of your hand. As you slowly regain awareness, you find yourself in a dimly lit room, the faint scent of antiseptic lingering in the air.

Your gaze sweeps the unfamiliar surroundings, confusion clouding your thoughts. "Where am I?" you murmur, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

"In the hospital," Jisung replies, his tone gentle yet urgent, his words a beacon of reassurance amidst the fog of confusion. "You had your wisdom teeth removed, but you're all done now. Everything's going to be okay," he adds, his voice laced with a desperate plea for recognition, his eyes searching yours for any sign of comprehension.

"Maybe going for a walk might jog your memory," the nurse suggests as she walks into the room, her voice a gentle interruption in the stillness.

You try to sit up, only to realize you're cocooned in warmth, covered in two blankets and a coat. "What's all this?" you say, puzzled by the unexpected comfort.

"You got cold, and I didn't know what to do. I couldn't see you tremble, so I tried to cover you as much as possible," Jisung explains, a slight tremor in his voice betraying his concern as he gestures to his coat draped over you.

With the help of Jisung and the nurse, you slowly stand and begin to shuffle around the hospital corridors, the steady rhythm of your footsteps echoing in the quiet hallway. As you move, the motion seems to stir something within you, coaxing snippets of memories to resurface from the depths of your mind. With each step, the fog of confusion begins to lift, replaced by a growing sense of clarity.

And then, like a dam breaking, the first clear memory floods back, washing over you in a rush of recognition.

You pause mid-step, a look of realization dawning on your face.

"BBama," you murmur, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I remember BBama."

Jisung's expression changes, a mix of surprise and mild disappointment crossing his features before he quickly masks it with a forced smile. "Yeah, BBama," he replies, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "He's a good boy."

You sense a shift in his demeanor, a subtle tension in the way he grips your hand a little tighter. Guilt washes over you as you realize the impact of your words, the inadvertent reminder of your forgotten memories hitting Jisung harder than you expected.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, reaching out to touch his arm in a silent gesture of apology. "I didn't mean to—"

But before you can finish, Jisung shakes his head, his forced smile softening into a genuine one. "It's okay," he reassures, his voice gentle yet tinged with a hint of sadness. "It's just... funny how memories work sometimes."

As you walk, Jisung's disappointment hangs heavy in the air, his silence speaking volumes as you navigate the hospital corridors together. You can feel the weight of his unspoken thoughts, a palpable tension in the way he holds himself.

Guilt gnaws at your insides as you realize the depth of his disappointment, the fear that perhaps you'll never fully remember the moments you've shared together. You want to reach out, to erase the hurt etched into the lines of his face, but words fail you in the face of such uncertainty.

Lost in thought, you suddenly remember a fleeting moment, a snapshot of a memory that cuts through the fog.

"The ferris wheel," you say, a smile playing at the corners of your lips as you recount the memory that has surfaced in your mind. "It was a sunny afternoon, and we went to the carnival. We got on rides, and we laughed and talked for hours."

Jisung's eyes light up with recognition, a spark of joy dancing in their depths as the memory comes flooding back to him. "I remember that day," he says softly, his voice filled with warmth and affection. "It was one of the best days of my life."

"You were afraid of heights and got scared at the top of the wheel. I kissed you to calm your nerves," you recall, a blush tinting your cheeks as you relive the tender moment. "And in that moment, everything felt... perfect," you add, your heart fluttering at the memory of Jisung's comforting embrace.

His gaze softens, his eyes shining with love and longing as he reaches out to cup your cheek, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "It was perfect," he agrees, his voice barely above a whisper, his thumb brushing gently against your skin.

After spending some time reminiscing in the hospital corridors, Jisung helps you gather your belongings and leads you out of the hospital. He takes your hand gently, guiding you with careful steps as you navigate through the corridors and out into the crisp evening air.

As you step outside, you're greeted by the cool breeze, a welcome relief after the sterile confines of the hospital. Jisung flags down a taxi and helps you into the backseat, ensuring you're comfortable before climbing in beside you.

During the ride home, you lean against Jisung's shoulder, the events of the day catching up with you as exhaustion washes over you. Jisung wraps his arm around you protectively, offering silent comfort as the taxi makes its way through the city streets.

When you arrive home, Jisung helps you out of the taxi and supports you as you make your way inside. Once indoors, he settles you onto the couch, fluffing up pillows to make you comfortable.

"Minho hyung dropped off some soup for us. Let me serve you some," he says softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before disappearing into the kitchen.

As you sink into the cushions, the sharp ache in your jaw intensifies, signaling to your senses that the anesthesia is wearing off. Every movement sends a jolt of agony through your body, and you clench your teeth to stifle a cry of pain.

Your eyes brim with tears. Talking feels like shards of glass scraping against your raw gums, and even breathing seems to exacerbate the throbbing ache in your jaw.

With Jisung in the kitchen, you try to compose yourself, not wanting to alarm him. You take slow, shallow breaths, trying to find a way to cope with the overwhelming pain that courses through your body.

But despite your best efforts, silent tears slip down your cheeks, betraying the torment you're enduring. You press a hand to your mouth, muffling the sobs that threaten to escape, not wanting to disturb Jisung as he prepares soup to ease your discomfort.

Minutes feel like hours as you wait for Jisung to return, each second punctuated by sharp pangs of agony that seem to intensify with every passing moment.

Finally, you hear the soft shuffle of footsteps as Jisung reenters the living room, a tray of steaming soup in his hands. He pauses as he sees you, his eyes widening in alarm at the sight of your tear-streaked face.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asks, his voice filled with concern as he rushes to your side, setting the tray down on the coffee table before gathering you into his arms.

You cling to him desperately, unable to hold back the flood of tears any longer. "It hurts," you manage to choke out between sobs, the words barely audible as you bury your face against his chest.

Jisung holds you close, his heart breaking at the sight of your pain. "I'm sorry," he whispers, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head. "I'll make it better, I promise."

You cling to him desperately, your tears soaking into his shirt as you surrender to the overwhelming tide of agony. Each sob racks your body, a symphony of suffering that echoes through the silent night.

"I'm so sorry," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion as he presses another kiss to the top of your head. "I wish I could take away your pain."

As Jisung holds you, he whispers soft words of comfort, his voice a soothing melody in the midst of your suffering. You feel a flicker of relief in his arms, a fleeting respite from the relentless ache that grips your body.

Eventually, Jisung guides you to sit up, his hands gentle as he helps you into a more comfortable position on the couch. He retrieves the tray of soup he prepared earlier and sits beside you, offering you the spoon with a tender smile.

You try to eat, but the pain makes even the simplest of tasks feel like an immense effort. Each attempt to swallow is met with searing agony, and you can't help but feel a sense of incompetence wash over you.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, tears welling up in your eyes as you struggle to eat. "I can't do this."

Jisung's heart breaks at the sight of your distress, but he remains steadfast in his support. "It's okay, love," he murmurs softly, his voice a soothing balm as he takes the spoon from your hand and gently feeds you, " Let me help you."

With each spoonful of soup, Jisung's movements are deliberate and gentle, his fingers cradling the spoon as if it were the most precious thing in the world. He watches you intently, his gaze soft and reassuring as he anticipates your needs.

As the warm broth passes your lips, you can feel the tenderness of his touch, his fingers brushing against your skin with a feather-light caress. It's as if he's not just feeding you soup, but pouring his love and care into every bite.

Despite the pain that still lingers in the corners of your mind, you find solace in the simple act of being cared for.

As he continues to feed you spoonful's of soup, he notices the heaviness in your expression. With a playful glint in his eyes, he brings the spoon closer to your mouth but then pulls it away with a mischievous smile.

"Here comes the plane!" he says, his voice filled with playful enthusiasm as he mimics the sound of an airplane soaring through the air. He moves the spoon in a swooping motion, as if it's about to land in your mouth, his expression hopeful for a glimpse of your smile.

Despite the pain and discomfort, you can't help but chuckle at his antics. His determination to bring a smile to your face melts away some of the tension, and you find yourself playing along, opening your mouth wide as if ready to accept the imaginary "airplane" spoon.

Once you've finished eating, Jisung takes care of everything, cleaning up the kitchen and washing the dishes with meticulous attention to detail. He returns to you, draping a soft blanket over your shoulders and ensuring you're comfortable on the couch.

Then, he gathers you into his arms, holding you close as you cling to him. He wipes away your remaining tears, whispering words of love and comfort until your sobs subside.

"Shh, it's okay, my love," Jisung murmurs softly, his arms wrapped protectively around you. "You're safe. Just breathe," he whispers, his lips brushing against your forehead in a gentle kiss. "Let me kiss the pain away," he murmurs, pressing another tender kiss against your temple.

As your tears gradually subside, Jisung holds you close, his warmth enveloping you like a comforting embrace. He brushes away your tears with his thumb, his touch gentle and reassuring. "I hate seeing you in pain," he admits softly, his voice tinged with regret. "I wish I could take it all away."

You nestle closer to him, finding solace in his embrace. "It's not your fault," you reassure him, your voice muffled against his chest. "I know you'd do anything to make me feel better."

Jisung's arms tighten around you, his love evident in every gesture.

"I was so scared," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "When you didn't remember my name or my face," he begins, his words carrying the weight of vulnerability, "it felt like my world was falling apart. I couldn't bear the thought of losing you, of having you look at me as if I were a stranger."

Your heart aches at his confession, realizing the depth of his fears. "I could never forget you, Jisung," you assure him, lifting your head to meet his gaze. "You mean everything to me."

A soft smile tugs at Jisung's lips, his eyes reflecting the love and adoration he holds for you. "Knowing that means more to me than you'll ever know," he whispers, his voice filled with emotion. "I love you more than words can express." he whispers, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. "I'm sorry you're in pain. I'd rather it be me than you."

You lean into his touch. "You're my everything, Jisung," you whisper, your face close to his. "And I wouldn't want to go through this with anyone else by my side."

As you lean into his embrace, you feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest. And as he lulls you to sleep with soft murmurs and gentle caresses, you drift off into dreams, knowing that no matter what, you'll always have Jisung there to hold you and kiss the pain away.

*·˚ᑉ³ M.LIST | Ko-Fi | Taglist | Thank you for your support | Consider leaving a comment, reblog or like. © Valkyrieeeee 2024

[valkyrieeeee]

How do you come up with stuff so quickly 😭 I love all the content we’re getting 🤪

I live in the land of ✨delusion ✨

[valkyrieeeee]

omg that’s crazy i almost requested for you to do cake tasting w a skz member of your choice before i saw your recent post 🤭

No wayyyy 🤭

I can do a cake tasting one shot though if you’d like ?

[valkyrieeeee]

Hello! I have a question, do u make mxm? Thank u!

Hey 🥰

I do not write mxm!

Thank you for asking 💗

[valkyrieeeee]

Pretty Pretty Princess

ᑉ³pairing; Dad! Husband! Changbin x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Fluff

ᑉ³warnings; None I think!

ᑉ³Authors Note; Inspired by his loveable challenge hehehe. Unedited! Please let me know if there are any warnings I am missing!

In a quaint little house nestled among towering trees, you and your family reside in a haven of warmth and love. Your husband, Changbin, is the embodiment of tenderness and affection, showering your little family with his boundless love. His devotion to your daughter, Ha-ri, knows no bounds, evident in the sparkle of his eyes whenever she enters the room and the infectious laughter that fills the air whenever they engage in their favorite pastime: playing games.

Ha-ri, a bundle of boundless energy and imagination, adores her father with an unwavering devotion. She finds solace in his comforting presence and revels in the joyous moments they share together. From dawn till dusk, their laughter echoes through the halls of your home as they embark on countless adventures, fueled by the magic of their imaginations.

One bright morning, you awaken to the gentle glow of sunlight filtering through the curtains, your body still heavy with sleep. As you stretch and yawn, you become aware of a dull ache in your head and a weariness that seems to seep into your bones. Your body craves nothing more than the comfort of your bed, a respite from the demands of the day ahead.

But before you can surrender to the allure of sleep, your peaceful reverie is interrupted by the sound of rapid footsteps and excited chatter. With a soft creak, the door bursts open, and your daughter, a whirlwind of energy and enthusiasm, bounds into the room.

"Mommy, Mommy! Wake up! It's time to play!" she exclaims, her voice brimming with excitement as she tugs at your sleeve, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Despite the exhaustion that weighs heavily upon you, you can't help but smile at her infectious enthusiasm. Her joy is like a beacon in the darkness, illuminating the corners of your tired soul and filling your heart with warmth.

Though every fiber of your being yearns for rest, you know that her happiness is worth far more than a few extra hours of sleep. You get up and get dragged by her into the living room. She begins to harass you with questions.

"What do you want to do today? Should we play dress-up? Fashion show? Paint? Cook? Karaoke? Dance? How abo-"

"Woah, slow down, sweetheart," Binnie interjects as you collapse onto the couch, your head spinning. "Take a deep breath. It's still early, and you have all day to play."

Finally, Binnie glances at you, and realization dawns on him. You're not feeling well.

"But I want to play now!" your daughter protests.

As you sit there, torn between your desire for rest and your daughter's insistent pleas for playtime, a wave of gratitude washes over you as Binnie steps forward to take charge. His presence alone is a source of comfort, his steady gaze and reassuring smile grounding you in the midst of your conflicting emotions.

With a gentle kiss and a whispered promise to handle the situation, Binnie redirects your daughter's attention, his voice laced with warmth and patience as he engages her in conversation.

"Don't worry, Mommy needs some rest today, but how about you and I have some fun together?" Binnie suggests, his tone soft yet firm.

Your daughter's face lights up at the suggestion, her eyes shining with excitement. "Okay, Daddy! Let's paint!"

"Paint?" Binnie says hesitantly, nervous, as he does not want to make a mess and make his wife feel any worse than she already does.

"Yes, paint!" she responds, pulling him over to the dining room table. "Your nails, silly!"

Binnie's apprehension melts away at her innocent suggestion, replaced by a smile as he realizes the simple joy in spending time with his daughter, even if it means risking a few painted nails.

Your eyes begin to close as you hear the two begin their fun. Their laughter and excitement fill the room as they dive into the world of painting. You can't help but smile at the joy on their faces, despite the pounding in your head.

As they settle at the dining room table, you feel a pang of guilt mixed with gratitude for Binnie's willingness to step in and lighten your load, even when he's unsure of what lies ahead.

Your eyelids grow heavy as exhaustion tugs at your consciousness, yet you find solace in the sounds of their laughter and the warmth that fills the room. Despite the pounding in your head and the weariness in your bones, their happiness brings a sense of peace to your tired soul.

With a contented sigh, you allow yourself to drift into a light slumber, safe in the knowledge that your family is in good hands. And as you surrender to the embrace of sleep, you can't help but smile at the thought of the memories being created in the next room, each one a testament to the love and laughter that fills your home.

But the painting somehow turns into dress-up, and before you know it, Binnie is decked out in fairy wings and a tutu, playing make-believe with your daughter.

As you wake, you catch sight of Binnie in his whimsical attire, his laughter mingling with your daughter's as they lose themselves in their imaginary world. Despite the initial surprise, you can't help but smile at the sight.

As you continue to wake you hear snippets of conversation, the soft murmur of Binnie's voice blending with your daughter's excited chatter.

"Daddy, you make the best fairy!" your daughter exclaims, her laughter bubbling with delight.

Binnie chuckles, the sound warm and comforting. "Why, thank you, my pretty pretty princess! Now, where shall we fly to today?"

"To the enchanted forest!" she declares, her imagination taking flight.

"Daddy, can you teach me how to flutter like a real fairy?" your daughter asks, her eyes shining with wonder.

Binnie nods, his smile wide and infectious. "Of course, sweetheart! Just follow my lead."

You watch with a soft smile as they twirl and dance around the room, their laughter filling the air like music. 

As their laughter reaches a crescendo, Binnie's eyes meet yours, and you can't help but notice the hint of embarrassment that colors his cheeks. Yet, beneath the blush, there's a spark of mischief in his gaze, a silent acknowledgment of the absurdity of the situation.

With a chuckle bubbling up from deep within, you shake your head in amusement, unable to contain your laughter at the sight of your husband, adorned in fairy wings and a tutu, dancing with your daughter.

In that moment, surrounded by the echoes of their laughter and the warmth of their love, you realize just how fortunate you are to have Binnie by your side, willing to embrace the whimsy of fatherhood with such grace and humor.

As the last strains of laughter fade away, Binnie takes a step towards you, his eyes soft with affection. "I love you," he whispers, his words a tender melody that fills your heart with warmth.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you return his gaze, overwhelmed by the depth of emotion that binds you together. "I love you too," you reply, your voice barely a whisper, but carrying the weight of a thousand promises.

In that moment, as the morning sun bathes the room in golden light, you knew you married the best man.

*·˚ᑉ³ M.LIST | Ko-Fi | Thank you for your support | Consider leaving a comment, reblog or like. © Valkyrieeeee 2024

[valkyrieeeee]

And with that I’m running out of ideas 🙂 send some requests ( if you’d like )

I wanna do more fake texts or drabbles or something while I work on the Bangchan series

Send some ideas please 💖

[valkyrieeeee]

Broken Promises

ᑉ³pairing; Fiancé! Bangchan x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Angst

ᑉ³warnings; Arguments, Alcohol, cursing

ᑉ³Authors Note; Surprise.. another angst (said no one ever)!

Sitting alone at the small table in the quaint bakery, surrounded by an array of beautifully decorated cakes, you can't shake the growing sense of unease gnawing at your stomach. Chan was supposed to meet you here for the cake tasting for your wedding, but as the minutes tick by, there's still no sign of him.

Glancing down at your phone for what feels like the hundredth time, you force a smile as you reply to the concerned messages from the bakery staff, assuring them that Chan will be arriving shortly. But with each passing moment, your assurances feel emptier and emptier.

The bakery owner, a middle-aged woman with warm, motherly eyes and flour-dusted apron, approaches you with gentle steps, her expression a mixture of concern and empathy. As she reaches your table, she offers a sympathetic smile, lines of experience etched into the corners of her eyes, revealing a lifetime of witnessing both joy and sorrow.

"Is everything okay, dear?" she asks in a soft, soothing voice, her tone carrying the weight of genuine care. "Your fiancé seems to be running a bit late."

You nod, plastering on a smile that feels more like a grimace. "Oh, he's just caught up with something. He'll be here soon, I'm sure of it."

But even as the words leave your lips, doubt gnaws at the edges of your mind. Where is Chan? Why hasn't he shown up for something as important as choosing your wedding cake?

As the minutes turn into hours, the atmosphere in the bakery grows increasingly awkward. The staff exchange concerned glances, and you can feel the weight of their pitying stares bearing down on you.

Finally, unable to bear the charade any longer, you excuse yourself from the table and step outside for some fresh air. Leaning against the cool brick wall of the bakery, you let out a frustrated sigh, feeling the sting of tears threatening to spill over.

You had envisioned this day as a happy occasion, a chance to celebrate your love and plan for your future together. But now, it feels like just another reminder of Chan's inability to prioritize your relationship.

Feeling a mix of frustration and disappointment, you pull out your phone and start typing a message to Chan.

Still, there's no response from Chan. You try calling him, but it goes straight to voicemail. Panic starts to set in as you realize that he's not picking up.

Tears blur your vision as you hit send, the weight of Chan's absence bearing down on you like a ton of bricks. You're left feeling hurt and confused, wondering how and why he could have missed something so important to you both.

As you walk briskly away from the bakery, you can't shake the feeling of betrayal that weighs heavy on your heart.

Each step feels like a painful reminder of Chan's absence. Tears threaten to spill over, but you blink them back, refusing to let yourself break down in public.

As you reach your home, you unlock the door with trembling hands and step inside, the familiar surroundings offering a small sense of peace amidst all of your emotions.

Alone in the quiet of your apartment, you finally allow yourself to release the floodgates of pent-up frustration and sorrow. Tears stream down your cheeks as you collapse onto the couch, the weight of the day's events crashing down on you all at once.

You pull out your phone, hoping against hope for a message or a call from Chan, but the screen remains stubbornly blank. With a heavy sigh, you set the device aside, resigning yourself to the painful reality of his absence.

As you sit on the couch, lost in a whirlwind of emotions, the sound of the door unlocking startles you. Your heart leaps with a flicker of hope, but as Chan staggers through the doorway, his movements unsteady and his breath heavy with the scent of alcohol, your hope quickly dissipates into a sinking feeling of disappointment.

"What the hell?" you ask, your voice a mixture of concern and frustration.

Chan's eyes struggle to focus as he blinks blearily at you. He gasps "Babbbyyyyyy" he slurs, a lopsided grin spreading across his face. "Hi beautifuuull."

Anger bubbles up in your chest, hot and fierce, as you struggle to contain the storm raging inside you. "Don't you 'baby' me," you snap, your voice sharp . "Where have you been, Chan? You were supposed to be with me."

But Chan's smile only widens, oblivious to the turmoil in your heart. "I was out celebrating, love," he says, his words slurred and carefree, as if the weight of his absence bears no significance. "With the boys, you know? It was a great night!"

The audacity of his nonchalant demeanor ignites a fire within you, the flames of your anger burning brighter with each passing moment. "Celebrating? While I sat here waiting for you?" you seethe, your voice trembling with rage. "You were supposed to be at the cake tasting with me. Do you have any idea how important that was? Do you even care about me at all?"

Chan's expression falters, a flicker of confusion dancing in his glazed eyes as he struggles to comprehend the depth of your hurt. "Of course I care, babe," he says, his voice tinged with a hint of defensiveness. "I just... lost track of time, that's all."

Your voice cuts through the air like a knife, sharp and unforgiving, as you confront Chan's feeble attempt to brush off his actions. "No, Chan, you forgot," you repeat, your tone laced with the bitter sting of disappointment. "You forgot about me, about us, about everything we've been planning together."

Chan's gaze flickers with a mix of guilt and frustration, his defenses crumbling under the weight of your accusation. "I didn't mean to," he protests weakly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You cut him off with a wave of your hand, unable to bear his excuses any longer. "Save it, Chan. We have an important meeting tomorrow morning with the photographer and videographer. We need to finalize the details for the wedding, and I need you to be sober and present for that."

Chan nods, his expression contrite as he sinks onto the couch beside you. "I'll be there, I promise. I'll make it up to you."

You want to believe him, to trust that he'll follow through on his promise, but doubts linger in the back of your mind.

As Chan sinks onto the couch beside you, his expression contrite, you can feel the tension between you thickening. His drunken attempts at affection, his hand reaching out to touch your cheek, elicit a mixture of conflicting emotions within you.

"Chan, I'm not in the mood for this," you murmur, your voice tinged with frustration.

But Chan persists, his touch lingering as he leans in closer, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours. "I love you, Y/N," he whispers, his breath warm against your skin. "I'm sorry for messing up, but let me make it up to you."

You want to believe him, to let yourself be swept away by his words and his touch, but the memory of his absence and his neglect hangs heavy in the air between you. You can't bring yourself to let him off the hook so easily, not when this isn't the first time he's let you down.

With a heavy heart, you push him away gently, your resolve firm despite the ache in your chest. "Not tonight, Chan," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I need some space."

Chan's expression falls, disappointment flashing in his eyes before he nods, accepting your decision. "Okay," he murmurs, his voice tinged with regret.

You watch as he retreats to the bedroom, disappointed. Unable to face the thought of sharing a bed with him tonight, you grab a pillow and a blanket, retreating to the couch where you curl up and try to push aside the hurt and disappointment that threatens to consume you.

As you close your eyes and try to drift off to sleep, the ache in your heart remains, a painful reminder of the rift that has grown between you and Chan. You know that tomorrow will bring difficult conversations and tough decisions, but for now, all you can do is try to find solace in the solitude of the couch and hope for a better tomorrow.

The next morning, you awaken with a heavy heart, the events of the previous night weighing heavily on your mind. Despite the restless night, you rise early, determined to face the day head-on.

As you make your way to the kitchen to prepare some breakfast, you can't shake the feeling of unease gnawing at the pit of your stomach. Glancing around the empty room, you realize that Chan is nowhere to be found.

A sense of apprehension washes over you as you check your phone, half-hoping to find a message from Chan explaining his absence. But the screen remains stubbornly blank, devoid of any communication from him.

With a sinking feeling in your chest, you push aside your worries and focus on the task at hand. You have an important meeting with the vendor this morning, and you can't afford to be late.

Quickly finishing your breakfast, you gather your things and head out the door, praying that Chan is already on his way. Maybe he's already on the way, you tell yourself, trying to quell the rising tide of anxiety threatening to overwhelm you.

As you arrive at the meeting venue, you scan the area, searching for any sign of Chan. But he's nowhere to be seen, and your heart sinks as the realization dawns on you.

He's done it again.

As you step through the front door, the tension in the air is palpable, thick with unspoken frustrations and simmering resentment. You walk into your bedroom ready to sleep the pain fromt he day away. But your gaze falls upon Chan, seated at his desk, his headphones on as he works on his music, seemingly oblivious to your presence.

Without a word, you storm over to him, your anger bubbling over. "Chan, we need to talk," you say, your voice tight with emotion.

Chan looks up, startled by the intensity of your tone. "What's wrong?" he asks, removing his headphones and turning to face you.

"What's wrong? What's wrong is that you keep letting me down, over and over again," you reply, your voice rising with each word. "What's wrong is that you can't seem to prioritize anything other than your damn music! You forgot about the meeting this morning. Again. Do you even care about our wedding?"

Chan's brow furrows in frustration. "Of course I care, but I had a deadline to meet. I couldn't just drop everything."

"That's not good enough, Chan," you shoot back, your hands trembling with anger. "You promised you would be there. You promised you would start taking our wedding seriously."

"I do take it seriously," Chan insists, his own frustration beginning to show. "But I have other responsibilities too. I can't just neglect my work."

"You're neglecting our relationship, Chan," you retort, the words bitter on your tongue. "You keep putting everything else before us, and I'm sick of it."

Chan stands up, his jaw clenched with pent-up frustration. "I'm doing the best I can, okay? I'm trying to juggle everything, but it's not easy."

Well, it's not good enough," you say, your voice trembling with emotion. "I need someone who can be there for me when it matters, someone who won't let me down."

The air crackles with tension as the weight of your words hangs heavy between you. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the silence filled with the echo of unresolved anger and hurt.

Finally, Chan's voice rises in a roar of frustration. "I'm tired of always being the one to blame! Maybe if you weren't so demanding, I wouldn't have to constantly choose between you and my work!"

You reel back, stung by his words, but before you can respond, Chan continues, his anger pouring out in a torrent of emotion. "You have no idea what it takes to make it in this industry. This is my dream, Y/N. I can't just drop it because you want me to."

Your blood boils at his dismissive tone. "Dream? This isn't just about your dream, Chan. This is about us, about our future together. And you keep throwing it away for some stupid song."

His eyes flash with anger. "Don't you dare belittle my passion like that. You think planning a wedding is more important than my music?"

"Yes, I do!" you shout, your voice echoing off the walls. "Because this wedding is supposed to be about us, about our commitment to each other. But all you care about is yourself."

Chan's nostrils flare, his fists clenched at his sides. "I'm selfish? Look in the mirror, Y/N. All you do is demand, demand, demand. You never think about what I need." He says slaming his headset down. "I'm sick of feeling like I'm not good enough for you! Maybe you should find someone else who can live up to your impossible standards!"

The words hit you like a slap in the face, the sting of his accusation cutting deep. "I'm demanding? I'm demanding because I expect you to show up for the most important day of our lives? Because I expect you to be there for me when I need you?" You take a deep breath. "Maybe... maybe you're right," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe we shouldn't be getting married."

Chan's eyes widen in shock, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly as he struggles to process your words. "Y/N, wait—"

But before he can say anything else, you reach for the engagement ring on your finger, the metal cold against your skin. With a swift motion, you rip it off and fling it at him, the ring soaring through the air before landing with a dull thud at his feet.

Chan's face pales, his eyes wide with disbelief as he watches you turn and storm out of the room, your footsteps echoing off the walls like a thunderous drumbeat.

As you step outside into the cool night air, tears stream down your cheeks, mingling with the bitter taste of regret and heartache. With each step you take away from the house, the weight of your decision presses down on you like a heavy burden, but you know deep down that it's the right choice.

With a heavy heart, you make your way to your parents' house, seeking comfort in the familiar embrace of family. And as you collapse into their arms, the tears come in quickly, a torrent of emotion unleashed in the wake of your shattered dreams.

*·˚ᑉ³ M.LIST | Ko-Fi | Taglist | Thank you for your support | Consider leaving a comment, reblog or like. © Valkyrieeeee 2024

[valkyrieeeee]

Hiiiii

Decided to make you all cry before bed tonight :)

Broken Promises with Chan dropping in a few !

[valkyrieeeee]

Who in SKZ 😭